


The Water's Call

by peptobismolbird



Series: The Town of Hope [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, False Memories, Psychological Horror, light body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25425571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peptobismolbird/pseuds/peptobismolbird
Summary: The account of Zoey Tucker, on the recollection of her first friend and first love, involving the true nature of the trauma she experienced during her youth. The water calls to her, and only now does she have the strength to tell the story of why.
Series: The Town of Hope [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841620
Kudos: 2





	The Water's Call

There is something incredible about the human mind, in the way that it fills in gaps based on what we expect to be there. There’s a lot of research out there, about how our mind is always looking for shortcuts around basic information that causes us to miss certain things. I know that is a strange energy to start this out with, but it's important for everyone to know that our mind is built to fill in gaps with what it expects to be in those gaps, based on patterns, the surroundings, your memories. It's also really good at forgetting things, smoothing over pieces of the narrative that don't add up, or repressing things entirely. It’s really good at it, and for the most part it makes our lives a lot easier. Sometimes, though, sometimes it makes your life so much more horrible. I’ll get to explaining that later on, it was just important for me to get this out there before I started, before I explain to you the events that ruined my life. 

For the past fourteen years, I have been dealing with paranoia and mild hallucinations. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a young girl watching everything I do. When I turn to look, of course, there’s nothing there, but I always feel her watching. It started when I was seventeen. You see, the summer after my junior year of highschool, I was kidnapped in the early morning. Taken right out of my home and brought deep into the forest, to a run down cabin by the greenbrier river. I was found by the rangers of the monongahela national forest, unconscious, bruised and battered. We can't really reconcile what happened to me out there, just that a lot of foreign substance was in my blood, and I had rather severe head trauma. The image of this young girl I could always see out of the corner of my eyes is a response to those events. She was another victim, or some kind of weird projection of coping, or maybe even the face of my captor. Not that I ever saw her face, not really.

I almost got away with that too, with believing that she wasn't real, that the therapists were right. I was seeing things in response to a traumatic event, and none of it was real. Not only did I believe them, I started to remember the events based on the narrative they gave, filling in the gaps that I couldn't explain with what they told me. Pretty soon it was all I could remember, for years until now. When the chance came to go back home, though, for the tenth year anniversary highschool reunion, I couldn't turn it down. I would go home and reconcile with the events that changed my life. I hadn't been home in so many years, and I was certain I would be okay. That was three years ago, and while I was certainly not okay, my life has turned out the better for it.

I grew up in a place called Hope, a small ski town out in the middle of nowhere. It isn't a place you would ever really hear about, and it's so small they forget about it on a lot of maps. You might have heard of the place it's near, though. It's about ten miles away from the Greenbank Telescope, the largest moving radio telescope. It's also in the middle of the national radio quiet zone, because of that. The big telescope needs its space, or whatever. It made Hope a pretty superstitious place, with a lot of stories to tell. There wasn't much else in the way of entertainment after all. Kids told each other stories, biked around and tormented the elderly, pretty standard stuff.

Not that I had enough of a proper childhood, even by Hope standards. My mother was quite poor, so she spent a majority of her time out at work while I stayed home. I did not have any friends, not until highschool, and in truth I wasn’t very interested in making them. I had no father figure, but I honestly couldn’t tell you if my life was made better or worse by this. It doesn’t matter, though. What I mean to tell you is that my childhood was spent, for the most part, alone.

I spent my solitary time watching the world around me, observing patterns in nature and in people, primarily how they behaved. I didn’t understand it, but it was absolutely fascinating to me just watching. So that’s what I did, I watched and I dissected these patterns. Certain behaviors meant certain things in certain people, how the occurrence of one event dictated the events to follow. I know that’s something that comes naturally to most people, knowing what expressions meant what things, and what that led to, but it wasn’t for me. I had to study it, like one would study math or another language, and I absolutely adored it. I even got really good at it, reading a situation be it with people or not. Needless to say, I was kind of a weird kid. I lived in my own little world and I never thought about bringing the outside world into it. I didn’t even realize that people were attempting to bully me, my head was so stuck in the clouds. 

So I walked through the old halls of my school, looking at posters and work hung up on the halls. Eventually, I found myself walking into the gymnasium, where the main gathering was to be held. Our school wasn't exactly well outfitted, it was in the middle of a small town without a lot of money. People preferred a lot of other ski towns, and just stopped coming to ours. It meant our walls were a little bit worse for wear, the windows had a bit of browning and the gym was a bit dusty. A bunch of folding tables were set up, clothes laid out atop of them with plates of food and bowls of punch. 

Everywhere I turned, people seemed genuinely shocked to see me. Happy, even. I couldn’t fathom why, after all, I was a pretty weird kid. I spent all my time alone, only observing and never talking to them, so you can imagine my surprise when people were genuinely excited to see me. I didn't expect them to remember me, much less than absolutely elated to see my face. 

I got an explanation pretty quick. A trio waved me over with heavy enthusiasm, one of them jumping up and down. It was a trio that I remembered to be pretty popular, Rebecca, Heather and.. I couldn't remember the other girl's name. It was the same trio that attempted to bully me when I was younger.

"I know this is about to sound super hostile," Rebecca said, a cheery tone accenting claims of hostile words,"But how the hell are you here right now?"

"Well, I.. I drove? I have a car, a pink Mitsubishi, it's sitting outside?" I told her.

"I figured that much, you idiot. I meant how are you alive? You died, like, eleven years ago? We had a funeral and everything! It was so touching, I cried!"

"Uhm, didn't you cry because your nails chipped? It was a while ago, but I'm pretty sure that was it. You were kind of conceited," Heather interjected.

"Okay, that was a lie because I thought you'd make fun of me and you know it," Rebecca waved her hand as if to shoo Hannah’s words away.

"Oh I remember that! Wasn't it because you had a -" The other girl started, but was cut off by Rebecca.

"Barbara I am begging you on my hands and knees to not finish that sentence."

"What, it was like ten years ago and it isn't like you still - Oh my gosh, you totally do, don't you?!" Heather exclaimed, all while I looked back and forth between them completely lost.

"Could we please not do this right now of all times? Look, it's really not that important right now. Zoey isn't dead! Look at her! Eye bags, yes, and still very much pale, but definitely not dead," Rebecca gestured to me with her hands, “And that means Sammy is probably okay, too!”

“Of course I’m not, and neither is.. Wait.. Who?” I asked, but I think I already knew. In that one moment, my slight headache turned into something that was splitting my skull. I started to feel nauseous, my head was swimming. I tried to tell them that I didn't remember, that I had no idea who they were talking about but the words were caught in my throat. I knew who was watching me, the face of the girl I always saw out of the corner of my eye. I remembered Samantha Grace, my first friend, and first love. I remember what happened to me. Not what they told me happened, but the truth. All of it. 

I must have stumbled without realizing, because I suddenly noticed I was being held up by Rebecca. She was supporting my full weight, hands at my side. My body felt so heavy, but light at the same time. My vision blurred in and out, I couldn't focus on anything around me. I think the trio was talking back and forth about something, but it was like my head was dunked underwater, all I heard was mumbling. I simply shut my eyes and hoped that the feeling would go away, but it didn't. It only got worse, with every passing second. I felt myself being walked somewhere, my legs moving without command but I did not open my eyes to see.

It must have been an hour before I opened my eyes again, but it’s impossible to be sure, time felt like jelly. At some point during that time I sat down, though I couldn’t say when and I didn’t remember doing it. Rebecca was still by my side, next to me on one of the school’s old benches. I was leaning against her, and when I opened my eyes the first thing I saw was her face.

Rebecca was patient with me, surprisingly enough. I didn’t really expect it, given how she treated me when we were younger. I’m not going to complain about that, though, I never even noticed, and what she was doing now? It was rather nice. Eventually, after sitting on that bench in silence for a good long while, I told her everything. Everything that I am about to tell you.

My first friend’s name was Samantha Grace, and the fact that I managed to become her friend was truly baffling to me at the time. I wonder what my life would be like if I didn’t, but I couldn't help it. She was the one thing outside of my own world that was remotely interesting. She was one of, if not the, most popular girls in the entire school. She was in the colorguard, and exceptionally good at it. People adored her, teachers and students alike. It was something about the way she smiled, I think, that really did it. Sure, she had plenty of charm in every other aspect, and she was really pretty, but I’m almost positive that it was her smile. I can’t tell you what it was that made her smile different, as much as I wish I could, but I could that there was something.

Needless to say, I was curious about her. Her smile just seemed to make things better, wherever she was. So, when I could, I watched her. Not in the creepy, stalkery kind of way, but when she was in the room I simply observed. When there were arguments or fights, it seemed she could always calm them down within a matter of seconds. People said that she was good in words, but I knew that it wasn’t it. It was her smile. That beautiful, radiant smile. I was never a part of the situation, but I could feel my own heart calm just seeing it.

It was more than just that, of course. If she asked for something, she always got it. She could get favors from anyone, extensions on all her deadlines, extra credit when she wanted it, it was baffling. She was class president, and every single idea she ever had recieved unanimous support from the whole student body. For all three years that she retained the position. I had never laid my eyes upon a more perfect girl in my life.

So naturally, I had a bit of a crush on her before we even spoke. She was perfect in every way I could have imagined, from her silky brown curls to the freckles dotted across her cheeks to the depth of her hazel eyes and all topped off with the most wonderful smile I had ever seen in my life. She had a boyfriend, of course, was way out of my league, and based on what I had seen, probably straight as they came. It did not stop my crush, and it did not stop me from being a nervous wreck when we were assigned a project together. It was the first time in three years that I would actually have to speak to her, and despite having observed her in silence for those three years, I had no idea how to actually talk to her.

Her friends complained for her when she was assigned to work with me, but she waved them all off with a smile. She came to me, and we exchanged numbers so that we could work on the project after school when we needed to. I was quiet, for a vast majority of the time, responding to her with as few words as I possibly could. It isn’t that I didn’t want to talk to her, as I believe I’ve made quite clear, but I wanted to talk to her too much while being totally incapable of finding any words to say. I was the epitome of socially inept, how could I not be? I spent so much time alone, after all.

There was a moment though, a few days into the project, where she pulled me aside during class. It was in the middle of a group work session, so it wasn’t necessarily odd or out of place for her to pull me to one of the bookshelves in the classroom. She looked at me with a curiosity in her eyes, a curiosity I couldn’t place.

“I know you’ve been observing me for a while, Zoey,” She said, and my heart dropped into my gut, “So I was wondering if I could ask you a question?”

I simply nodded, panic gripping my heart. I knew it wasn’t necessarily wrong to do, but I couldn’t help but feel creepy and weird. Which, to be completely fair, I should have felt. It wasn’t exactly normal to have spent three years just observing someone whenever you could and I knew that. Yet the moment she smiled, all of that melted away. She smiled at me and my fear was gone, but it wasn’t just that, I felt bliss. Looking back on it, I think there was something that I missed, something I should have noticed right then and there but I just.. Didn’t see it.

“My boyfriend has been acting kind of strange lately, and I thought that since you’ve been watching for a while now that you might know what was out of place?” She asked me, and I found myself genuinely surprised. I didn’t know what it was that I expected, but it wasn’t that. What was more surprising is that I couldn’t tell her that I had no idea, because the second I thought about it, I realized I did have a pretty good idea about what was happening.

I wanted confirmation, of course, so I asked her to show me some of the conversations between them and if she could recount some of the behaviors I wouldn’t have been able to see. She complied, and my suspicions were spot on. Not only was the boyfriend cheating, he was incredibly bad at hiding it. Dodging questions, cagey and accusatory at certain times, a little bit jumpy, and a slew of other things. So I told her that was what I thought, and where I expected some level of sadness, she only smiled at me.

“Thank you,” She said, and that was the end of it. I was certain that she simply didn’t believe me, but I found out the next day that she had ended their relationship nearly an hour after we had our conversation. Her boyfriend did not return to class the next day, and a week later I learned that he transferred schools. I was confused about this string of events, but nothing seemed particularly wrong with it that I could set my finger on. A boyfriend cheated knowing he was going to be transferring schools, and she simply asked me for conversation. After all, it seemed like she already knew when she came to me.

But that was about when we became friends. She continued to talk to me after the project, and spend time with me, even outside of school. While we were apart I was afraid, terrified even, that I would not know what to say, that I would make a fool of myself with my lack of social skills. It never happened. When I was in her presence, all of that fear melted away. I told her things I would never tell anyone else, I rambled to her about the things that were most important to me, the patterns I saw and my interpretations of them. I rambled about my favorite books, shows, and music, too. I opened up to her in a way that I have never opened up to anyone, not then and not now. She smiled and I was putty in her hands.

Samantha Grace, the most popular girl in the school, the most loved and the most perfect. The girl who could get anything that she wanted, and yet I watched as she slowly pushed all of that away to pick me. She brushed off movie nights and parties just to spend time with me, listen to me. She frequented my home whenever she could, and always brought gifts for my mother. I think this was the happiest time in my life, and even though I knew I wanted more, I was content being her very best friend.

I thought her smile was wonderful before, but with every day we spent as friends I grew to love it even more. I saw it so much more, so much closer, and it made me feel so very happy. Except that isn’t really enough to describe what her smile evoked in me, because it wasn’t just happiness. I know this gets said a lot, and it’s honestly kind of cheesy, but it was like drugs in a very real way. I needed to be around her and her smile, my whole body felt sick if I wasn’t. My stomach twisted in pain when we were apart, I had dizzy spells, and there was a point where I even fainted. When we were together, when I saw her smile, it felt like liquid ecstasy was running through my veins instead of blood. It was actually a bit scary, looking back on it, but I never questioned it then.

When summer break rolled around, and she invited me out on a trip with her? I had never been more excited in my life. We would be going to her family’s cottage out by the nearby lake, spending a weekend together. I didn’t exactly like the outdoors, but there was nothing more appealing than getting to spend a weekend with Samantha Grace. While we spent a lot of time together, we hadn’t done anything like sleepovers before, nor had I ever been to her house. I was honestly excited to get to meet her family, to spend time with her somewhere new.

I didn’t actually spend a whole lot of time getting ready, as least as far as packing was concerned. I didn’t have much in the way of stuff to bring, so I packed some changes of clothes, deodorant and a toothbrush. What I spent most of my time doing was fantasizing about what would happen, about secret midnight confessions at the lakeside. Nothing I could ever have imagined would come close to the reality of what happened that weekend.

Sammy arrived at my door at about six in the morning, a chipper smile already on her face. We would be taking her car for the drive there, she told me, and meet her family at the cottage. She told me that it was nearby, but we were driving for a while. It didn’t seem to bother me at the time, though, I was just happy to be with her. When we arrived at the cottage at noon, six hours after we departed, I thought nothing of it.

The cottage looked surprisingly old, with it’s stained windows, chipped paint and missing shingles atop the roof. The top of the chimney was even a bit crumbled away, but I wasn’t going to point that out. It would have been rude to turn to someone I adored so much and call her family's cottage shitty. It would have been rude to do that to anyone, so of course I kept my mouth shut.

The inside of the cottage wasn’t any better, though. Sammy led me indoors by the hand, something that halted nearly all of my critical thinking skills, to show me around. There were cobwebs in nearly every corner, and a fine layer of dust coating every surface. Bookshelves, tables, even the sofa was cultivating an ocean of dust. The rug in the living room was tattered, ripped in several places, as were the curtains hanging up in the windows. A painting hung above the fireplace, a young girl standing in front of two older people, who I assumed to be her parents. The paint was faded, the color drained out of it and the frame itself seemed to be rotting. It was undoubtedly old, but I couldn’t have guessed how old. It was also empty, I noticed, devoid of life entirely.

“Hey, Sammy.. I thought we would be meeting your family here? Are they running late?” I asked her, and she simply squeezed my hand, offering me another warm smile.

“Not at all, we’re just a little early. They’ll be here soon,” She answered, and I nodded. Her smile crushed any doubts I had in my heart, sparking that usual feeling of untameable joy.

She showed me through the cottage, and it was more of the same aesthetic as the living room was. Tattered curtains, furniture covered in dust, rot and mold seeping into the edges of the wood that built it. To be quite honest, I wasn’t really paying the cottage any attention. At that moment, I felt like it was perfect, and there wasn’t anything in the world to worry about. She showed me to her room, a bed with pink sheets in the corner, bookshelves lined with hand made dolls, a simple wooden dresser. It was the only place in the entire cottage that seemed lived in, that wasn’t covered in dust.

We spent some time together in her room. I don’t think it’s necessary to go into details about what happened, but we were in there for hours. Feelings were confessed, and I was happy to tell her everything I had been thinking for so long. It was a little after noon when we entered, and when we left I could see the sun setting through the window. I was blinded by so many emotions at the time, and everything felt right with the world. I saw so many futures ahead of me, bright and beautiful. I felt so loved, and for once, life was perfect. Yet the cottage was still empty.

“Sammy, when do I get to meet your family? It’s kind of late, isn’t it?” I asked her, and she only smiled.

“You’re going to meet them very soon,” Came her answer. I don't know why, but for the first time that entire day, I felt truly afraid. Her smile didn't calm me down, not anymore, something was deeply wrong with that smile. It was wide and bright, just as it always was, and nothing had really changed at all. Her smile a little too wide, the curl of her lips unnaturally twisted, and when I noticed, I finally realized what was so wrong. Her smile had never been a smile at all. I couldn't tell what it was, my eyes drifting away from her face on their own whenever I tried to properly look at her. My heart pounded, I could hear it rushing in my ears as my vision spiraled. I nodded to her, my mouth suddenly dry.

Sammy grabbed my hand, and I noticed just how cold it was. Had it always felt clammy and empty? I couldn't remember, not at all. She led me to the center of the living room, and reached down to lift up the rug. In doing so, she revealed a rectangular wooden hatch. Icy tendrils of dread wrapped around my heart as she tossed the rug aside, and opened the hatch. The smell hit me first, wafting out of the darkness in palpable waves. It was the revolting scent of mold and rot, twisting together in a filthy amalgamation. 

I noticed the staircase next, warped wooden steps framed with cobwebs led into an inky abyss in the cottage floor. Sammy held my hand tight, no longer a comforting gesture but frozen shackles I couldn't escape. She led me down into the darkness, and I followed her willingly. I didn't pull or tug to get away, no matter how scared I was. I didn't want to go, I didn't want her anymore, and yet I felt myself made the choice with every creaking step downwards. The smell only got worse, bile working its way up my throat. My eyes watered, yet the entire time Sammy didn't stop smiling. I wanted her to stop, but I didn't say anything. It wasn't long before we stopped, around halfway down the stairs, and what I saw I can still barely comprehend.

There was a trickle of light coming from a single vent in the corner, the only source of illumination in the basement. It was flooded with murky water, and within that water I saw growing things. Vines starting within its depths curled around the rotting wooden pillars, dripping with a viscous, purple fluid. Or at least, purple is the closest word that could be used for the color of that liquid. It wasn't purple, not really; it's color shifted between shades and emitted a sickening miasma of colors that didn't exist. My head pounded as I tried to process that maddening toxin, and my eyes trailed along the vines in hopes of finding the source in the water. I found it, and it haunts me.

“They’re right in the corner, sweetheart. My parents, aren’t they lovely? I’m so happy you’re here to meet them,” Sammy said, and she pointed to something resting just above the waters. My heart dropped into the pits of my stomach when I saw it.

It was a twisted mass of vines and contorted flesh, oozing that thick, bubbling liquid into the waters flooding the basement. It was wrapped around a metal cylinder, something that used to be a water heater now crushed by the monstrosity. It writhed and squirmed like it was alive, rotting flesh pulsating with an impossible color that stained reality around it. I saw faces in the nightmare, horrified expressions plastered on them; voiceless screams begged for mercy as my legs gave out from under me.

I plummeted towards the dark, murky water and just moments before I collided, breath held and eyes shut, I felt Sammy’s clammy hand grab on to my collar. She held on with an iron grip, and I opened my eyes. I saw Sammy, for the first time, as what she really was. I had so many regrets in that moment, recalling all of the time we spent together now knowing the truth. Suddenly I could taste bile in my mouth, and I tried to stop the rest from forcing its way up.

Sammy was twisted and horrible. Her eyes bulged, pulsating with that same corrupted, viscous fluid and the color that should not be. It spread across her face, into her veins and down the rest of her body. Her smile wasn’t a smile at all, it wasn’t even close to being a facial expression. Her lips were thin, dried and cracked, her cheeks rotted away to show the corrupted flesh within her mouth. Her expression was a twist of sickened flesh that oozed poison, and I wondered how I could have never noticed. Her hair was sopping wet, filthy water dripping down onto the staircase. I felt tears pouring down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry, darling. We’re going to be together for a long, long time, and I’ll finally take you home,” Sammy told me, and she let go of my collar. I shut my eyes, her demented face the last thing I saw before the waters embraced me fully. It was warm and it burned like acid in a wound against my skin, the pain overwhelming my senses until suddenly there was nothing.

The next thing I remember was waking up in the back of a ranger’s truck, someone cleaning off cuts and wrapping them up in bandages. I was woozy, fading in and out of consciousness. Before I knew it I was in a hospital, having my blood drawn and new medications to take. Officers were there, bombarding me in questions that I didn’t have answers to. My mind was in a fog, and I felt myself being tugged towards the water. It wasn’t bad, not really, just a weird sensation that I got. A need to stare into a cup of water, getting lost in it, or staying in a bath for far too long while completely submerged. It was in the hospital when I started to see her, lurking just in the corners of my vision. 

The rest is history. My family moved away from Hope, all ties that I had to the town severed for reasons that nobody really told me. A safety precaution, but stuck in a haze, I didn’t really know what for. I spent years in therapy, seeing different psychiatrists for medication, going in and out of facilities until I could finally cope with my life. I forgot what happened to me, for a long time, but the entire time, she didn’t forget about me. I don’t really know how I escaped, but even now she’s always there, and she’s always calling me back to the water.

It’s been three years since the reunion, since I went back to hope and remembered the tragedy of my childhood. I didn’t stay, of course, though I didn’t want to go back to my old life, either. The complacency that I had there, the years that I spent being watched and lied to, it was all far too much for me. Rebecca offered me a place to stay for a while, and I gratefully accepted. I’ve been living with her since then, and it’s the only reason I don’t regret going back.

We’re together now, Rebecca and I, we got together a few weeks after the incident. She confessed during one of my breakdowns, during one of my absent minded attempts at returning to the waters, something about not wanting to lose me again. In truth, I wasn’t in a very good state of mind to remember all of what she said, but I wouldn’t admit that to her. She’s been kind to me, and despite the horrors of what happened, I’m glad that it was at least able to bring us together. I never realized how sweet she could be, and now that I’m in a better state of mind, I plan to propose. We’ll have a nice wedding ceremony, somewhere far, far away from any water.

I don’t think Sammy would be happy about it.


End file.
